


Things Can Turn Out A Lot Worse Than Previously Expected (WIP)

by StarKillrr



Category: southpark - Fandom
Genre: Kidnapping, M/M, Unfinished, WIP, gangrape, rapefic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 08:08:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25890103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarKillrr/pseuds/StarKillrr
Summary: TW: Kidnapping, graphic description of sexual assault/rxpeif you’d like to rp this pair feel free to msg me on discord @froglet#7747 🥴, i’m fine with smut and shit as well ♥️!!Christophe and Gregory fight. Christophe left. Things took a bad turn.
Relationships: Christophe "The Mole"/Gregory of Yardale
Comments: 3
Kudos: 13





	1. Chapter 1

In reality, Gregory knew he was in the wrong.  
He always was! At least, according to the man across the room. The other man seemed to be hyperventilating, pressing his forehead against the wall and dinging his fingernails into his scalp. It couldn’t have hurt that bad, really. Gregory often caught him chewing down on his fingernails when he was nervous. 

Gregory logically knew he should give him some space. But where could he go that he wouldn’t ultimately end up disturbing the man? What the man didn’t need right now is limited access to their shared apartment because he was scared Gregory may be there.

What had even happened?

He didn’t 100% remember, seeing as his memory of the whole situation had been overshadowed by the man whining and crying about it. He really shouldn’t phrase it like that. Gregory wasn’t the victim in this situation, but neither was Christophe. They were both equally at fault here. As far as he remembered, at least. Then again...

It had all started when Gregory had to work a longer shift at the office. One of his coworkers was on maternity leave, so everyone else had to pull some extra weight. He hadn’t said it explicitly to Christophe, but he’d assumed that it should have been clear that, hypothetically, if he were to be gone for 11 hours of the day, maybe the other man could.. I dunno, done something around the house?

He understood that mental health and such could get in the way, and the other man could be going through something Gregory just couldn’t grasp, but.. They shared an apartment, Gregory was the one paying their rent in full. Christophe had recently quit his job for “personal reasons,” but he’d always suspected something weird was going on there.  
All he was asking was that Christophe helped a little bit.

Okay; so that’s not exactly how he’d worded it. In the heat of the moment, he’d said some.. Very irrational things. He’d even called him a burden, at one point. Things he, in all sincerity, would never say to anyone if he was thinking rationally. Much less to someone he admittedly loved.   
While that love was completely platonic, that didn’t make it any less significant than romantic love.

The man; on the other hand, was still freaking out quite a bit. He had turned to face Gregory now, ugly tears streaming down his cheeks as he choked and sobbed. While Gregory didn’t understand the reaction or what to do about it, he knew it was a rational thing for someone like Christophe to do. It was typical, almost, but that didn’t make him less bitter if he thought about it.

The choking, whimpering and sobbing didn’t seem to be stopping anytime soon, so, after a decade, Gregory decided to try to step in.

He held his hand out to Christophe as of he was a scared animal, despite them being meters away from each other. He took a cautious step forward, finding it hard to focus on staying quiet and calm with the man on the other end breaking down like this. 

As soon as he’d taken a step forwards, though, Christophe jerked to the side, seeming as if he was trying to look for a possible escape route. He seemed to be edging slowly to the door. Ah, fuck.  
Gregory spoke quietly, his voice hushed and silent as he stopped himself from moving forwards any further, despite the urge to envelope the man in a hug.  
“Please-?”  
There was no response except for a quiet whimper, staring Gregory dead in the eyes. He seemed to be choking back his sobs awfully well, seeing as every so often his body would jerk as if he’d been kicked. Christophe was still clearly crying, though, tears rapidly falling down the sides of his face in an usually graceful way.

“I’m sorry- please sit down? We can talk this through, baby, I want you to be okay.” He murmured, his voice still hushed to the point he was almost whispering.  
But yet again, he was given no response.  
Instead of any sort of response, in fact, the man reached for the keyholder beside the door, scrambling almost wildly for the keys before he finally got a hold of them. He turned around quickly, almost as if he was on a time limit to get the fuck out, opening the door, and rushing out.

At least he closed it 😥..

—

Christophe hadn’t been running for very long at all, and yet he was still fucking exhausted!  
He eventually started to slow down, panting heavily as he gasped to catch his breath. Nobody was out here. At all. Occasionally there was someone making their way home from.. Who knows where. But everything had been closed up by now. With a glance down at his phone, he could understand why. 2:49 AM. But alas, he was away from the situation so.. What now? His phone was in his pocket, but otherwise he had nothing to occupy his time. What was he supposed to do, though? Go back to the apartment and grovel for the mans forgiveness? He knew this was his fucking fault— there was no denying it. 

He was completely blaming himself for their fight.   
It was much less of a fight, moreso Gregory lecturing him as Christophe freaked the fuck out. 

Anyways,, he continued walking, his eyes focused solely on his feet as he made his way down the street. Thoughts of how he could make this up to the other man occupied his mind. Would he even be able to get back in the apartment? Was he gonna come back the next morning, all his stuff (admittedly not much) outside the door? Fear settled in more than it had in quite a while, and he gave a subconscious whimper of sorts. He reckoned he looked pretty dejected, like a kicked puppy.  
Maybe he’d be abandoned once again? It’d be the whole situation with his parents once again. It probably wouldn’t go the way it had with his parents, seeing as that was around the time he had met Gregory. Where would he go if he were to be thrown out? He hadn’t been making money recently, which he understood was his own fault, but how would he find somewhere to stay? He could stay at hotels and such, but that was even more expensive than the rent of his current—  
He wasn’t able to finish the thought before he forcefully collided with the wall in front of him. He let out a loud yelp of surprise, which was abruptly stopped and muffled by a sweaty, unusually large hand. Something like a hand was gripped around his neck, restricting his breathing a significant amount. Squirming with muffled cries, flailing his body around as wildly as he could manage so, maybe, he couldn’t be restrained. Eventually, though, his wrists were both gripped and quickly tied together, immobilizing him further. He was, admittedly, very fucking scared. If he was just getting mugged, he didn’t figure so much care would be put into keeping him from retaliating and/or getting away. A hand grabbed at his bottom jaw, forcing it open and shoving something smooth, rubbery, and hard into his mouth.  
It hurt, really. It was too large- it made his jaw ache despite only having it in for a few moments. he heard something like a buckle from behind his head, and realized what it was all too late. A ballgag.

He was being kept silent. 

Another realization was that there were more than just two hands grappling at his body. Whatever this was, it was a team effort.

Then came the cloth around his eyes. It wasn’t very tight, though. He reckoned if he could use his hands he could quite easily tear it off. Speaking of his hands, he guessed the material was some sort of industrial rope. It was gritty and poked at his wrists uncomfortably, but he could stand a little bit of discomfort, seeing as that’s not what’s really important here.

Hands squirmed their way under his armpits, lifting him up quite effortlessly, someone else grabbing for his legs. With a start, he realized his legs weren’t bound. He would take every opportunity to get away that he could now.  
He thrashed his legs wildly, managing to get one free..! It was quickly picked back up and held even tighter than it previously was. The struggling warranted a pretty painful slap on the cheek, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as he had expected it to be. His jaw was starting to lock up, and it seems to be trying to close itself desperately. 

He could hear the quiet rumbling of a car, one of the men shouted something, but it was incoherent to Christophe’s ears. He wondered if he’d make it through this conscious, much more whether or not he’d live. And; oh, dammit. How would he explain any of this to Gregory? 

He heard distant beeping, and the sound of something opening, before he was manhandled into said thing.

It had a soft lining, and the outer edges felt something like leather. Maybe even pleather, seeing as Christophe didn’t know the difference. Also, that wasn’t of any urgency right now. The ballgag was starting to make his jaw numb, which he guessed was better than any pain, but that didn’t mean he enjoyed it. Sobs still wracked his body, making him choke every time because of the hard rubber restricting his mouth.  
Every few moments he was jerked around, unwillingly thrashed and pushed around as his head occasionally smacked against the sides of what he guessed was a car.

Eventually, the car came to an abrupt stop, causing him to hit his head one final time on the car, trying to choke back his muffled sobs. For one, the ballgag was doing it’s job at keeping him silent. This is the one time he’d be thankful for it. The back door opened once again with a series of obnoxious whistles and beeps. He was almost relieved he couldn’t see where he was, but it also submerged him into another fit of panic. He thrashed as hands grabbed at him to keep him still and to hoist him up. Whimpering softly wouldn’t convince them to let him go, so he kept as silent as he could, save for the soft sobs the ball gag choked back.

It was pathetic, really, that he couldn’t even keep himself together and find a logical solution to get himself out of this. After what felt like forever, he was set down on something that felt like a countertop. It wasn’t smooth, not at all, but it was still a relief to be sitting down instead of in some uncomfortable position. Immediately, the restraints around his hands were unbound. His hands weren’t free at all, but now it was much less like handcuffs. With a quiet whimper, he guessed what was coming next.   
Hands grappled at the hem of his shirt, fisting the cloth before pulling it up over his shoulders and head. Christophe wasn’t sure what had been done to it, but he reckoned it had been discarded off to the side. Next, he was met with exactly what he had feared.  
The buttons of his jeans were pulled off one by one, despite the thrashing and quiet whined Christophe let out behind the ball of rubber. He tensed up as his boxers and jeans were removed in one movement.  
When had he lost his shoes?  
He swore he was wearing some docs at some point in time.

That was besides the point, seeing as he was now completely naked. The part of the cuffs that chained his hands together was clipped back on, while dread settled in his stomach. How much could he handle? He didn’t figure it was very much.  
He was still blindfolded, though, so at least he wouldn’t have to watch.

A hand fisted itself in his hair, causing him to wince from the slight amount of pain. Another hand was placed on his neck, and he was picked up. Hot, heavy gusts of breath were blown into his face. He cringed back a bit, but couldn’t manage to shrink far enough away to escape it. Someone clearly hadn’t brushed their teeth for days. There was an impatient holler from someone else in the little group of, what he guessed was three.


	2. Things got worse.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey gamers. Haven't had any writing motivation in a while but it's 2:00 am and I wanna write.  
> TW: Graphic description of sexual assault, rxpe. I wouldn't recommend even coming close to this fic, whether or not those are triggers for you. Much love. I have kinda grown to dislike this character so. Lol. die  
> Probably gonna switch tenses a lot on accident here, I have a lot of trouble when it comes to tenses.  
> I wrote a MUCH more violent version of this but felt bad, no matter how much I dislike Christophe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Graphic description of sexual assault, rxpe. I wouldn't recommend even coming close to this fic, whether or not those are triggers for you. I sincerely apologize. Much love.

It definitely made sense now. With the lack of clothes on his body, the kidnapping, the restraints.. He should've seen this coming long ago. His breathing was unsteady around the ball-gag, tears streaming irregularly down his cheeks. He felt something touching him- grabbing him by his cock. He shrunk away, whining in protest despite the ball-gag. That earned him a punishing slap on the cheek. He wasn't sure the motives of these men. Were they using him for their own pleasure, or simply hoping to humiliate him? Didn't matter. He'd still probably be dead by the end of the night.

He was grabbed by the neck, along with the hand that was already in his hair, and pulled into a sloppy kiss. The man definitely had facial hair- so probably in his late 20's. It wasn't very much, just a stubble much like his own. These men were definitely older, though. The mans big lips and teeth prodded at him constantly, until he compliantly opened his mouth. The man seemed satisfied, getting up into his lap to viciously grind down against Christophe. Shamefully enough, he was getting hard. It wasn't because he enjoyed the contact- or the act in general. It was a natural bodily function. Get over yourself. The man on his lap liked this, clearly, reaching one hand into his own pants (the group had never taken any of their clothing off) and started to play with himself. A weird thing to do, considering he's on top of another man, who he has full access to do whatever he pleases with. 

Christophe hears faint, indistinctive murmuring, before the weight is pushed off of him, and he hears a thud. His first thought is hopeful- that the police or some other savior had arrived. Unfortunately, that didn't seem to be the case. The weight was only replaced by a larger, more burly man, who immediately took off the ball-gag, casting it to the side. This caused Christophe to squirm and whine, moving his jaw rhythmically back and forth to try and ease the tension in it. This didn't seem to work- either that or he forgot about it. The man immediately stuck two fingers down into Christophe's throat, causing him to choke and gag on them. He could taste that they were caked in sweat and dirt, calloused and scarred, much like his own. He obediently suckled on the fingers like a baby, trying to convince the man to stop choking him.

Actually, it seemed to work.

The man eased his choking of the poor boy, letting him suckle desperately at his fingers as the man made quick work of his pants and boxers. Another man seemed to come from behind, undoing the restraints on his arms and the blindfold. Were they already letting him go? It hadn't been that bad. Sure, he was scared out of his-  
Oh.

It wasn't over at all, actually. They were just freeing him up so they could use him more. This was obvious because he was immediately tipped out of the chair, unexpectedly, might I add. He fell face first into the concrete, his eyes still not adjusted to the light, and his wrists itching from the rope. He sat up slightly, getting onto his back so he could see the men who had tried- or were trying- to violate him. They just looked like three humanoid silhouettes from here. The man who he guessed was just on him took a step forward. He was undressed- potbelly and a scraggly little beard. Unexpectedly, the mans cock was shoved into his mouth, despite his awkward position. He scrambled in momentary shock, holding himself up by his elbows so he wasn't tipped over.

You see, this man was going all for it, thrusting into his mouth wildly. Christophe would bite his cock in rebuttal- which would hurt like a bitch, but get the man off of him. He also had to consider these two other men surrounding him.

And, surprisingly, Christophe gave up.

He was usually persistent, but this situation looked hopeless for him. He'd submit until it was over, hell, it couldn't be that bad.

The man carded his fat, ugly fingers into Christophe's hair, pulling at it recklessly, moving it around and, when he was done, shoving the boys head down onto his cock. It caused him to choke- once again. He did his best to swallow, because he knew that's what the men wanted, but he couldn't get himself to. He choked and sputtered, stringy white cum connected between his mouth and the concrete, as he fell back in exhaustion. The men took turns each, until all three of them had a try with him. He didn't try to "circumcise" any one of them, despite the quiet urging voice in the back of his head. Now that they had used him, he was sure to be let go, yes?

Not quite.

Still unsure of his surroundings- considering the time of night, it took Christophe a moment to realize when his hips were grabbed and he was flipped over onto his back once again. Hands prodded at his ass and between his legs, eagerly awaiting to be the first one in. How had they gotten aroused again so quickly? Christophe, and I myself, am unsure.

"Please." He accidentally, quietly murred. He wasn't begging to be violated any more, obviously, but instead to be let go. He was tired. He was ready to go back home to Gregory, apologize, and cry in the bathroom. Simple.

The men looked down at him, clearly quite shocked. It was expected though, considering none of them had said much of anything to each other.   
"What was that?" He could tell it was the third person- the one who hadn't sat on his lap at all earlier. His voice was deceptively sweet, and he almost recognized it, but he couldn't quite put a name to it.

"I want to go home. You all know this.. This isn't alright." If he were being honest with his own feelings, he would've been yelling and screaming and kicking. Maybe if he was soft-spoken and tried to sound calm, this would all be over with.

"I don't see why you think we would. We've already kidnapped and started this, why the fuck do you think we'd care?"

"Ah." He muttered simply, resting his head back down on the concrete. The utter lack of human empathy made him sick.

The men laughed quietly, and Christophe could hear them preparing something. Suddenly, a warm, wet THING prods at his asshole. He squirms uncomfortably, kicking his leg up instinctively at the man, who he hits in the neck. Reasonably so.. This makes them quite angry.

"I was going to prepare you, you ungrateful bitch. You deserve this, though, after that little show." He seethed. It was definitely the first man, considering the lack of a beard and a different voice from the third man.

A much drier, and larger organ pushes at his asshole, before thrusting in abruptly. Howling in pain, he squirmed and whined, kicking as he tried to get himself free.

"Stop this, stop this, stop this.." He repeated. Over and over again. "Red. Red. This isn't okay, stop, hurts too bad.. Hurts a lot. Not okay." He babbled on, which didn't seem to faze the man. He was filled up to the brim with a hot, sticky substance, leaking out of him slowly and grossly. Clearly, fucking him to sobs didn't seem to be as attractive to them as forcing him to suck their dicks. That was kind of a relief. The others didn't seem to want a turn. He collapsed at once onto the ground, tongue hanging out of his mouth like a dog as he quietly cooed to himself.

The men left quickly, not even bothering to take him with, or kill him, or clean him up. He was once again, on his own.


End file.
